Kicking Ass For Life
by Lizewski
Summary: An unofficial sequel to the film Kick-Ass that also pulls from elements in the comics.  It follows the lives of Dave, Mindy, Chris and other returning characters two years after the movie when Dave comes out of retirement.  FINISHED/COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1:  A Day in the Life

KICKING ASS FOR LIFE

NOTE: This is a fanfiction based on the Kick-Ass film and comics. The characters are owned and created by Mark Millar and John Romita Jr and this is not meant for profit.

CHAPTER ONE: A Day in the Life

Where should I begin?

Since last we met, a lot has happened to me. I've experienced the triumphs of the mundane such as learning how to drive (not that I can afford a car), discovering the taste of alcohol (bitterness and broken dreams), oh and Katie helped me define the term fellatio (definition: awesome).

But that's not what you want to hear about, is it? You want to hear about the superheroics of Kick-Ass: the handsome and imposing boy from Queens who continues dawning his costume/green condom to strike fear and vengeance in the hearts of criminals everywhere. Right? Well get lost, dude. Weren't you paying attention last time? I hung the tights up. I outgrew that shit and went on with my life. I'm now happily married and living in New Jersey waiting for the birth of our first child.

….

I'm just fucking with you, man. Sorry, I had to! Okay, in all seriousness….yeah I'm still Kick-Ass and I'm doing my part to kick the world's proverbial ass. But it's getting harder every day. As you may have heard, I've recently had my secret identity exposed, my house blown up and a loved one put in a coma. But let's not get ahead of ourselves by giving you the cable news version. What happened to me wasn't "fair and balanced." It sucks. Still, I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise. It started almost two years after Mindy and I brought down Frank D'Amico, thereby fucking la cosa nostra up, and a few days before Kick-Ass made his grand return to the world….

Like nearly every morning, I woke out of bed fifteen minutes after the alarm went off. It's not that I hit snooze a bunch; it's that I could sleep through CB Sully crash landing another plane on top of the house next door. By the time I was dressed for school in my usual nerd chic, Dad was at the breakfast table eating from that damned cereal box with that damned bee on it. Honestly, since Mom died he has fallen into the same routine for three years and is trying to take me down with him. At 7:15 every morning (7:26 for me) he sits there at that table and eats cereal in silence. He gets home at about the other 7:15 every evening and sits in front of the TV, slowly inhaling chili. On the nights that I'm not lucky enough to be contorting my body into unnatural shapes with Katie in every back alley, subway station and creek bed in our borough (don't ask), I'm sitting next to the old man wondering why anybody would want to be an "Ice Road Trucker" while I mindlessly gum my chili.

"Dave, you gonna' be home to help me put together the new book shelf tonight?" he asked.

I turned to face my father who has been anxious for some quality bonding time as of late. Instead of trying to have a natural conversation with me, he opts to buy put-it-together-yourself pieces of furniture from IKEA.

"No, I got this meeting after school," I said truthfully. I gauged the disappointment in my father's eyes as minimal. I knew I would make it up to him on the weekend. With that I grabbed the piece of toast he left out for me and I was out the door.

Outside, I passed our new-ish dog, Chrissy. She was a small mutt of some kind I found behind the closed Atomic Comics shop a few months back. Given she was a runt I named her after Chris D'Amico aka the Red Mist aka the douchebag who betrayed me and got Mindy's dad killed. Last I head he took his father's bottomless fortune and went to Eastern Europe to live like an '80s action movie villain. I gave Chrissy a brief pat on the head and went about my day.

At school, Marty and Todd were already in heated conversation. They were arguing about who had the cooler trailer for the summer: Thor or Green Lantern. Marty said he was sick of Marvel and their bullshit after they ditched Ed Norton for Alice in Wonderland's sperm donor dad in the new Avengers movie (yeah….) and Todd has had a thing for Natalie Portman since watching Mila Kunis invade her Naboo with her tongue. I don't think he even noticed it was a flick about ballet. I, myself think both look like crap and am kind of over the whole superhero movie thing after living one that is 20x better than almost any Hollywood effort. It was at about the moment when Marty was explaining how a magic ring was way cooler than a magic hammer when Katie showed up.

"Hey Dave, Todd…Marty," Katie said as she beamed her 20-gig smile. She was in a blue blouse and dark jeans. With little effort she still made me catch my breath.

"Hey Katie," Marty mumbled as he excused himself and Todd. Marty and Erika had broken up nine months ago. No scratch that. Erika dumped Marty over a text message when her popularity points went down from being with him for too long. Ever since, things have been as chilly as the Superman's arctic bedroom between him and Katie.

On the other hand, Katie and I were great. She didn't give two shits about what these children around her thought. Her lack of respect for them forced them to respect her all the more. Thus, given her pop status around the school, I was like the First Geek. Katie was still Katie freaking Deauxma and I was her plus one. I'm not knocking myself. I love being a plus one. Until a few years ago, I just existed. Like every American kid really knows, I tried my hardest to be normal and not stick out. For most of the world sticking out meant you were worse than worthless—you were worth ridicule. Being Katie's plus one for life had its endless advantages. When I want to feel special in the way mommy and daddy always told me I was, I lurk on Internet message boards that talk about the importance of Kick-Ass and how he was a cultural trendsetter. What can I say other than I'm vaguely narcissistic?

"So, we're on for tonight?" she pleasantly asked me.

"Yeah, I'll come over around 8 o'clock. We can watch Glee and then I'll make you reach a high note," I said with a smirk.

"Dave," Katie said with a sigh.

"Okay, perhaps a medium note…"

"Dave, we're supposed to be getting dinner," she murmured. I could see the gray clouds of weariness flood into her eyes.

"Katie, you know I said I couldn't do it tonight."

"I know what you're doing. And I think it has to be therapeutic for both you and Mindy. What you've done for her since you 'found' her is great. But Kick-Ass is over."

I looked at her hard the moment after I glanced over my shoulder to make sure nobody heard the KA word.

"You think I don't know that?" I exclaimed in a whisper. "I put the suit away for you and haven't looked back. I'm not a lonely 16-year-old anymore. You're more than enough."

"Enough?" she said in the way a girl does that can make a guy shrivel up downstairs.

"Katie, you're all I'll ever need. But I'm doing this for me. It's an outlet. Besides, it's good to know that I can protect you in case another Razul ever comes calling." At that I saw a half smile appear and vanish across her face. It let me know that the bomb was defused and we could go down from DEFCON 1.

"I'll be at your house at 8 and we'll get our Lea Michele on. Just know you're not going to have a voice tomorrow," I said as I kissed her forehead. She gave me a knowing smile. Crisis averted.

After school I immediately made it to the abandoned dojo attached to the back of a Gold's Gym. It was decrepit, dirty and smelled like athlete's foot. It also had been run out of business by the Flying Dragon-Monkey Tiquando thingy down the street. Thus, it was perfect for us.

Inside was a lobby covered in saw dust and a training/dance room whose mirrors were stolen long ago. There, sitting on a wobbly stole that was missing half a leg under the dim, florescent lights, was a pint-sized angelic little girl. She was 13-years-old and only months away from that horror of horrors—teenage puberty. Still she looked like an innocent adolescent garbed in pink and purple with her long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. The only thing unusual was the mask she wore. Being it was meant for when she was 11, it was too small now and obstructed her face some. I would laugh if I didn't mind a broken femur.

"Boy, Mindy you're getting bigger every day," I chirped.

"It's called puberty, jackass. You should try it sometime." Mindy said this in a way where it was neither quite an insult nor a joke. Just her way of saying "hello" or "nice to see you too."

"Shall we begin?" she growled.

Fifteen minutes later I was cradling my body like it had just given birth.

"C'mon you little pussy, fight like a man!" she barked. "I said, HIT ME!"

I swung my arm with all my strength to the side of her head. She inevitably blocked it by jabbing my elbow with her fingertips as she kung fu chopped my kidneys. I collapsed onto the broken boards a hot, sweaty, bloody mess.

"You ever considered taking it a bit easier on me?" I moaned. "Hitting me at half force would be a great change of pace."

"How else are you going to learn how to fight?" Mindy said with an eye roll. "This isn't the Karate Kid, dumbass. You don't wax cars for a month and end up with a black belt. My dad would have you do a hundred pushups for all this whining."

"Not if he cracked my goddamn ribs, man. I feel like Rhianna after a quiet night in."

Mindy sat down beside me drinking from her bottle of water. She then offered me a sip, which for her was a gesture that spoke volumes. I sheepishly consumed the H20.

"If it hurts so much, why do you come here three times a week dressed in that," she said pointing to my costume. "I know you must carry that around all the time in your backpack. If you're done with the superhero game, why bother?"

"Do you miss it?" I said, dodging her question.

"Marcus won't let me go out anymore. I feel way more normal now that Daddy isn't training me how to kill a room full of junkies as a fun Saturday afternoon. Yet, there is something to be said of feeling those junkies' blood splash across your face." She gave me a grin. Even though she was talking about hacking and mutilating other human beings to death, there was something so innocent and sweet about this girl. That combined with my indirect role in her father's death, I had no choice but to take her into my home and my life. She lived in my house for two weeks as a "runaway orphan" until Marcus could fill out the proper paperwork to adopt her. Me and Dad still visit those two from time to time. Even Katie loves this girl when she finally got over the fact that Mindy was the mini-Terminator that killed a dozen guys on the Internet.

Mindy offered me a hand up. I asked her if she was able to meet again tomorrow and she said she would be. So it was time for me to clean up and head over to Katie's.

After Glee I offered Katie a chance to reenact the upside down kiss….again. We were sitting on the yellow spread of her yellow, yellow room. She was wearing my favorite of her yellow nighties. It was the three S's: Small, See-Through and Sexy. The last part was aided by the fact that her mom was going to be out until 11pm.

"Dave, I just want to do something that doesn't involve heroism and damsels, tonight," Katie breathed. "I find it exhausting after a while."

"Oh really," I said as I kissed her face from the upside down position on the bed where she lay. I worked my way down to her neckline, "There are more things to do upside down…" I stopped to lick her naval ring through the oh-so-thin nightie. "—Than kiss."

Katie and I commenced in doing things that would be illegal in some states to witness.


	2. Chapter 2:  Kick Ass Returns

CHAPTER TWO: Kick-Ass Returns

It's nice to hang with your buddies.

As much as I hate to admit it, I had become one of those whipped sort of dudes who does everything with his girlfriend as of late. The last time I had really done something with Marty and Todd was when we tried Four Locos over the Christmas break. It was a great experience beyond waking up in a ditch by the turnpike. At least I didn't have to explain why my clothes had disappeared that time. Still, it was cool when Katie would let me have lunch with the boys. It almost made me nostalgic for the days when I was sad, single and lonely.

"So Dave, we need you to settle this for us," Marty finished explaining. I had been daydreaming and waxing so poetic about my friends that I had completely missed what they were talking about.

"Settle what, again?" I asked. Marty and Todd gave each other a glance like they were living in a Judd Apatow comedy.

"Just who do you think is hotter: Black Cat or Catwoman?" Todd asked in a demanding voice that suggested a sense of urgency to this query.

"Ummm, I don't know," I said, looking for the words. "I mean I like the silvery white hair thing on one and—," their blank stares duly notified me that I was blowing it. "Y'know they're just two dimensional drawings on paper, right?"

"You were a lot more fun when you were gay, Dave," Marty deadpanned.

"Like way more fun. I wish you never went back into the closet," Todd said with the assist.

"C'mon guys, I'm trying, but after a while superheroes just seem less super-y is all I'm saying."

"Hey dad," Marty said, mimicking a South Park voice. "Dave Lizewski won't come out of my closet!"

"Wait just a second," I pleaded.

"Mr. Lizewski, you come out of that closet right this instance," yelled an overly excited Todd.

"Fine, I'll wait." I folded my arms in resignation.

"Seriously Dave, I get you wanting to go balls deep, but why'd you leave 'em in there?" smirked Marty.

"Because they're gone," Todd agreed. "It's like talking to a eunuch."

"We're done," I said in an even voice. They can bust my balls all they want, but when I see Marty bring Katie into it, just so he can hate on Erika by proxy, I am done. We made eye contact for a half a second and then he dropped his gaze. Point taken.

"I know what you need," Marty said with enough enthusiasm to change the subject. "You need to come with us to the reopening of Atomic Comics!" I looked at both him and Todd. Have I really been this far out of the loop that I didn't realize our store was coming back?

"Atomic Comics? I thought that closed half a year ago," I mumbled.

"Yeah, they did," piped in Todd. "But remember that sketch ass Chris D'Amico kid? He came back to New York and his first business interest is to buy a dying comic book store! It opened this morning."

"Once a geek always a geek, right Dave?" Marty said. My head was spinning. Red Mist was back and he owned my store? Fuck that noise.

"Look, I'd love to come to the opening with you but I already scheduled this thing for after school."

"Oh great," mocked Marty in a nasally voice, "He's got a date to get physical with Katie." I rolled my eyes. I had a date of sorts, with a mildly psychopathic pixie who was going to beat the shit out of me in a dilapidated dojo in hopes that one day I can actually kick ass in a fight. Besides, fuck Chris D'Amico.

"Look guys—rain check," I said and left it at that.

During a hideously boring Spanish class where I was learning how to say I have to take a dump in your restaurant, my phone buzzed and I asked to be excused. It was Mindy.

"So, your sure you can't meet for a training session today," I asked/begged.

"I told you already Dave, Marcus found out. I don't know when our next training session will be," Mindy patiently explained again to me, as if she was talking to Forrest Gump.

Mindy walked me through how Marcus was waiting for her to return last night. He had found her secret stash of guns that could probably arm a small-to-medium sized army. "Props for getting an AK-47 into a teddy bear, by the way" he said, appraising her ingenuity. Unfortunately, this meant it was less likely she would be able to train me into a real badass.

"Is Marcus there?" I asked.

"He's standing over me right now as he figures out how I got a fully assembled M-16 into a pillow case." I groaned to myself.

"Well, I'll….I'll see you around, Mindy."

"See you, Dave." I could have sworn that I heard a touch of sadness and regret in her voice.

I sighed and stared at the door leading back to Spanish boredom. I flipped the cell phone open and texted Marty. "Coming 2 Comix Store."

When the door opened, it became abundantly clear that Chris had changed the décor of the place. Everywhere we looked there were posters of Red Mist. The fact that nobody there put together the images of him and the owner greeting people at the register vindicated the Clark Kent glasses thing for me. Even the coffee bar was now red and black with the words above it: MISTY COFFEE BAR. I was ready to go immediately. Yet, it was cool to be around all these comics again.

"Welcome to the new and improved Atomic Comics," beamed a happy Chris D'Amico.

"Let's go say hi to him," urged Todd. I resisted as Marty pushed me to the counter with the cash register.

Chris was standing there in a smart suit—black design, black shoes, black shirt and an orange tie that featured black trim. A little too nice for a comic book shop, but about right for a mobster's son. We shook hands as I resisted puking.

"You've really done something with the place," I said.

"Thank you," Chris said in his high-pitched, pre-pubescent voice that indicated his desperate need for reaffirmation of not being completely worthless was still there.

"So, what made you decide to go into the comic biz? I keep hearing print is dead," I said. I glanced over at the disapproving stares I was getting from Marty and Todd.

"Sometimes, it's not about the money," Chris said. "It's about doing what you love. And like you, I love me some comic books." I gave a quarter of a nod. "For example, whose you favorite superhero?"

"Spider-Man," I managed to mutter out.

"Yeah, me too. I love Spidey," said Chris. "But it is also about the character of Peter Parker. What makes him a great protagonist is his supporting cast and with the right writers it can approach literary levels." I raised my eyebrows to that assertion. "Seriously, there is something Greek about the curse of villainy Norman Osborn passes on to his son, Harry. Harry loves Pete, but he has to fulfill his destiny and complete the sins of his father. It's great stuff." You know, if Chris hadn't tried to kill me and helped murder Big Daddy, I think I'd like the kid. Even now in our civvies talking as two geeks (only one of whom knows of our alter-egos), he's an affable bastard.

"You try our Misty Coffee Bar?" he asked us.

"No," said Todd, "But it looks great."

"What you recommend, a mocha frappuccino?" I said as half-a-joke.

"No, man. Cappuccino is where it's at, you should—," Chris started to say. He was interrupted when we heard gunshots from across the street. Some poor asshole had just been capped in the leg and three thugs were wailing on him. From out the window they looked like strung out junkies in ripped jeans and hoodies. One had a gun while the others were using their coked up hands and feet as weapons.

"Oh shit," squeaked Marty. "What do we do?"

"Quick let's get out the back door, it leads to an alley the other side," Chris said. "You know it, right?" We nodded as the three of us, plus Cappuccino Mike from behind the other counter, slinked out. As we rounded the corner, I stopped.

"Hey guys, y'all keep going, I'm headed this way." Marty and Todd stared at me blankly. "That kid could die. I gotta' call 911."

"Use your phone, dipshit," shouted Marty.

"Battery's dead, but there's a payphone this way," I yelled back as I ran down a different alley. In truth I had no idea if there was a pay phone down here or not because it's not the fucking '80s. What I did know was that that kid could die and if ever there was an opportunity to try out Mindy's new moves, this was it. Call it ego, boredom with daily life, narcissism or a naive sense of altruism, but it felt so good to put on the green and yellow again. Kick-Ass is back and it's time to do some good.

I rounded the corner and saw the guy on the ground was unconscious, but his attackers were too high or too stupid to care. They were still going.

"Hey assholes," I yelled in my most heroic voice. "Stop this bullshit right now and you'll leave in one piece." They looked at me for a moment.

"Is that that Kick-Ass kid?" said Thug A.

"I thought he retired," said confused Thug B.

"Well now he's gonna' fucking die," said Thug C who was pulling his knife.

As the third thug was finishing his thought, I had run up to him with my green batons out. I smashed one against his wrist and heard the joint crack from the blow. He dropped the knife as I spun around and landed the other baton in his neck. As he fell to his knees gasping for air I pivoted to my left, managing to dodge a haymaker Thug B had telegraphed in from Nebraska. I smashed the green stick across his nose and watched as the blood spurted out from his face. At this time I noticed the first thug was reloading his gun behind me. I gave him a rear donkey kick in the balls without turning around (I never said I fight clean). I then raised the baton up and smashed it across the skull of the kneeling third junkie who was still gasping for air and holding his throat, suggesting I shattered his windpipe. I looked to my right in time to see Thug B about to come at me one last time. I shoved my baton so far down his throat it tore teeth out of his gum line when I pulled it back out. I don't care what Freud would have made of that, because it felt so damn good.

"Holy shit," I said looking at the two now-crippled schmucks at my feet. "Hit-Girl has turned me into a monster!" Just then I felt a painful smash against the back of my skull and I fell to my feet. It turns out that I forgot about Thug A and he had just pistol-whipped me like it was a game of Call of Duty. I looked up and saw a blurry image of a pussy cradling his balls and holding a gun.

"Eat shit and die," he said. Just at that moment a large, metal pipe crashed against the backside of his skull. The junkie's blood splashed around in a six ft. radius. I'm pretty sure I saw bone and brain fragments as well. As he collapsed, in a way that hinted he might never rise again, I saw a tall, muscular and totally imposing black guy in a red and white body suit. He even had cool orange-tinted sunglasses to complete his mask.

"Doctor Gravity at your service, Kick-Ass" he said, offering his hand. He pulled me up and we met eye to eye. This was a totally awesome team-up.


	3. Chapter 3:  Should I Stay or Should I Go

CHAPTER THREE: Should I Stay or Should I Go

I have read everything about me.

I know it sounds kind of vain, but if you were the one who is credited with making your dream (a world of superheroes) a reality, you'd love hearing what people had to say too. I've been called a dreamer, a trailblazer, a delusional fanboy, a modern day visionary, the signifier of social and cultural decay, the Mark Zuckerberg of spandex, etc. So needless to say that when I discovered D'Amico's store had cameras that caught the ass-kicking, I had to see what the Internet thought.

People were loving the return of Kick-Ass. In the media there were the same critics who said it was unhealthy for me to be back. Some criticism about the dude Doctor Gravity smashed having permanent brain damage. They talked about how I was setting a bad example for the children. Who cares what they think, though? They have obviously haven't heard Kim Kardashian's new single. On the message boards I was welcomed back with open arms. While I've been gone, superheroes were popping up by the dozens in every major American city. It had reached the point that in New York you couldn't go a block without running into a guy in a mask trying to make the world a better place. We were like the Starbucks of costumes. There were murmurs of the need to organize because of our size. It felt good to be reunited with my kindred spirits.

I checked my old MySpace page, which I hadn't shut down. I never really took my foot out of this world. I noticed my friend list added about 80 in the last four hours. Not bad for the Internet's abandoned amusement park. I knew that if I was serious about getting back into the Kick-Ass game, I would need to create a Facebook page. I'd get Mindy's help because leaving a cookie trail back to my computer could be bad for business. As I scrolled through my new friends (bringing the count to around 45,000), I noticed one of them was Doctor Gravity.

Doc Gravity was an upstart superhero. He just started a few weeks ago and wanted me to go on a patrol with him tonight. It was incredibly tempting. Unfortunately, I promised Katie we'd watch the Gossip Girl box set. It's the price I pay. At that exact moment the door knocked and I immediately shut my laptop. Five seconds later Dad walks in.

"You okay?" he asked. Dad had a quizzical look on his face like he thought he caught me doing something worse. I found it a weird unsaid accusation because Chrissy was in the room next to me.

"I'm good pops, whatsup?" He looked like he was going to say something but couldn't find the words.

"Dave, if you ever have any problems with Katie, school or whatever, you know that you can talk to me, right?"

"Sure," I lied. We stared for a minute until he accepted this as the best he was going to get.

"All right. Katie's outside and wants to talk to you. I offered her to come in, but she said she'd rather not." My mind froze. I was supposed to be at her house like 35 minutes ago. By now I'm sure she's seen the footage online or in the news about the return of Kick-Ass. I bit my lip, knowing what I was about to face. I thanked Dad for letting me know as I walked downstairs and outside.

Katie met me behind the house in the pathetically small backyard. This wasn't some romantic Peter/Mary Jane moment though. She was pissed.

"What the freak were you thinking," she yelled at me. "You're done with this. We're done with this."

"That guy was in trouble," came flying out of my mouth. "What would you have me do? Turn a blind eye as he got beat to death?"

"It's not your problem. Remember last time? You were the one beaten half to death with a baseball bat. You were about to be set on fire and I had to watch!" She had tears running down her face now.

"It was this one time Katie. I had to do something. Everyday people are hurt. People suffer. People die." Now, I was upset. "And it's usually because nobody thinks it's their problem. They can reach out to do something, but they don't out of fear. It's not delusional to help your fellow man."

"You sound like you're planning to be suiting up again more than this one time," she said. I was silent for a time.

"I didn't say that. I got an offer from the guy who covered me this afternoon to team up again tonight. I thought about it, but said no."

"You thought about it?" Katie shook her head in disgust. She zipped up her fleece jacket and wiped the tears from her eyes. She promptly began walking off.

"Don't you want me to come over tonight?"

"NO."

I walked back inside the house and Dad was spacing out in front of some asinine "History" show about UFOs.

"You want to talk about the fight you and Katie just had," he asked.

"No."

"You want some chili, then?"

I didn't bother answering. Instead, I went upstairs to my room to fume. I paced around the bed for 20 minutes. Then I opened my laptop and saw it was still on Doc Gravity's second request to team up tonight.

I donned my full Kick-Ass regalia and caught the subway to the East Village. Not where I expected a big motherfucker like Doc Gravity to hang out, but it's where he told me to go. As I sat on the train a bunch of dudes were lining up to have their pictures taken with Kick-Ass. A few girls too. I have to say I felt like the big man on campus.

The minute after this whole superhero thing broke big, I read a hundred different articles by psychologists and their ilk that tried to analyze us. Why did we do this every night? Were we mad? Were we lonely? Were we just obsessed with comic books? The answer of course is a little bit of all three. But I'd like to ask all those guys why they didn't chase their dreams. How many rock stars settled for accountancy? How many astronauts grew up to be psychologists? Other kids were playing Mafia Wars. We WERE taking down the mafia.

I met Doctor Gravity by a Chinese stand on a corner. His suit was crimson red and virginal white with a form-fitting mask on his head. And still those sweet orange sunglasses at night. This guy was badass.

"Diet Snapple, please," he ordered.

"So, why Doctor Gravity?" I asked as we started walking our beat.

"By day I'm a physics professor over at Columbia, but by night I use my custom made gravity pole to fight crime."

"What does it do?"

"Just hit the button and you can make something twenty times its actual weight. Flip the switch and you can float."

"Seriously?"

"Are you nuts? It's a retrofitted lead pipe. What the fuck is a gravity pole? But that's what I love about the whole superhero thing. I'm really an English major, but being a superhero is making a statement about who you want to be." Huh.

"So you ever teamed up before?" he asked.

"Only once properly," I said. "It—It didn't go well." At that moment two sketchy jokers came up to us.

"Yo Kick-Ass! Man, am I glad to see you."

Doc Gravity started to groan.

"Always give them the benefit of the doubt, Doctor," I said. "Anything we can help you with sir we'll gladly—"

"Yeah," said one of them who looked kind of anxious. "Some asshole just jacked my wallet and…" he then swung a bat at my face. Thanks to Mindy's training I dodged that with the greatest of ease. The Doc tried to help me but I pushed him away. These jerkoffs would be a snap.

I shoved a baton up one's face breaking his jaw. I kicked the other one in the chest and sent him flying. I then did my signature spin landing the baton on jawless's ear, severing it deeply, drawing blood, all the good stuff. The first guy was getting up when I jumped in front of him and kicked him so hard in the face the blood vessels in his eye socket exploded. I don't think his eye popped out any…I don't think. I then turned around from a crouched angle and shattered the back of jawless's knee with my baton, sending him to the pavement.

"Fuck," was all that the Doc managed to get out.

"I've been practicing with a real warrior," I said with way too much pride. At that moment reinforcements from these dudes' gang arrived.

"You just crippled my brother you little prick," I heard from somewhere within the approaching mob.

"Suggestions," asked a slightly uneasy Doc Gravity.

"Yeah, run."

By the time the gang passed, we were sitting comfortably on top of a building. We had scrambled up the fire escape before they could see what happened.

"So Kick-Ass," the Doc finally said to break the adrenaline-fueled silence. "There's a couple of guys on my Facebook page talking about forming a team. I don't know how serious they are, but they look pretty hardcore from their profile pictures. If you're interested…"

"Are you kidding," I said, unable to contain my excitement. "That's one of the reasons I started to do this. To find likeminded people and form our own Justice League!"

"Great."

The next night, I sat in an alley waiting for the rest of the team to arrive, my mind raced with anticipation. I thought of how awesome it was when Hit-Girl and I killed D'Amico and his crew. Two little kids beat La Cosa fucking Nostra. What might a team do? I tried calling Mindy again.

"Dave, what is it," she asked. This was the fourth time I had called.

"As I said in the text, I'm on the eve of starting an Avengers team. You've gotta' be here. You'd be like our Wolverine!"

"I can't talk right now."

"But Mindy think of what we could do with an army of Hit Girls and Big Daddys? We could change this city."

"I made a promise. Besides, I'm at a birthday party right now."

"Mindy Macready at a birthday party? What's the theme?"

"Unicorns." A broad smile spread across my face.

"If I hear you laugh, I will break every fucking bone in your body the next time I see you." I bit my tongue as I tried to hold it together.

"Mindy come on and get some birthday cake," a voice said from far off on the other side of the phone. "We're about to have pictures taken!"

"I'll be there in a minute Carey," a surprisingly girlish Mindy said. "I can't wait." It struck me that for the first time Hit-Girl sounded….like a little girl. Then I heard her pull the phone up to her face again. "I'll see you around, Dave."

"Have fun, Mindy." For the first time I realized it would be better if I kept my distance and let her have that childhood her father never allowed.

At that moment, the floor gave under me and I disappeared under the street. At first I thought I was being pulled down by the Morlocks or something. It took me a few seconds to realize I was in an underground garage and Doctor Gravity was standing in front of me.

"Pretty cool, huh?" is all he said. As we walked through the garage he added, "This is how the beer gets delivered, but it's a good way of keeping out any uninvited guests."

"Dude you have an underground headquarters! This is insane. It's like the fucking batcave."

"You ready to meet the rest of the guys?"

I was at a loss of words when I walked through the next door. Around a table sat more than half a dozen of the coolest badasses I've ever seen.


	4. Chapter 4:  TEAM AWESOME

CHAPTER FOUR: TEAM AWESOME

There have been few moments when I've had a nerdgasm.

The earliest I can remember was when I saw the trailer for the first Star Wars movie when I was six (I didn't understand things like taste, yet). After that only a few superhero movies and video games have made me giddy. However, this was one of those moments.

Seated around a rotting wooden table, in front of an American flag on the back wall that glowed from candlelight, was a real superhero team that I was about to join. This team of awesome consisted of:

-The Dominatrix: A woman in her late 20s wearing a reddish-black leather leotard that had a kinky strap design around her low cut cleavage. The small black mask on her face was a fashion accessory. Her weapon? A whip, of course.

-Captain Star: A man in an uncomfortable looking body hugging suit of kevlar. The suit was a washed out blue and included a mask that covered his entire head, save for his eyes. On each arm, he had a mini shield with a star on it. That same star was on his mask's forehead.

-The Spider: A guy in a full-on black Spidey/Green Man suit of some sort that had been custom altered.

-Zorro 2000: A hulking bruiser of a middle aged body builder. He wore a long black, double-breasted trench coat that covered his whole body. He also had a scalp-and-eyes covering black mask. Thank God he forgot the hat. He also carried some type of automatic weapon that I'm pretty sure is illegal for civilians to have in this state. Nobody had the heart to tell him it was 2011, I guess.

-Zeus and Hera: An attractive couple in their 30s wearing Greco-Roman attire. He had long dark hair and bulging muscles. She had long blond hair and bulging….other things.

-K-9: The team leader. A huge bear of a man in camouflage from his hooded head to his boots. He was of a hard-to-determine ethnicity, but clearly had two giant pet German Shepherds that did not look friendly behind him.

Okay, none of them are that original, but sweet is sweet.

"You guys look awesome," I finally said after they all introduced themselves.

"We've read up on you closely, Kick-Ass," K-9 said. "And we think you have potential." I cocked my head in momentary disbelief.

"Potential? No shit, man. I'm Kick-Ass."

"Yes, we know," grumbled Zorro. "Congratulations."

"Be that as it may, we already have eight members," Hera said in a soothingly condescending voice. "That's more than enough for a team. We know Doctor Gravity spoke highly of you and that is why we're willing to let you try out."

"Hold on a second," I said after I gathered up my thoughts. "I'm the one who started all of this shit. No Kick-Ass? There'd be none of you. I'm the paterfamilias."

"Which is the only reason you've gotten this far," barked K-9.

"Indeed, we've all seen your exploits from almost two years ago," said Captain Star in a faux-commanding voice. "And while inspirational, to put it quite frankly your power seemed to be getting your ass kicked."

I felt my hand clench when Doc put his hand on my shoulder.

"We'll let you join if you can pass our test," said a clearly irritated K-9.

"And what is that, exactly," I said.

"Vanquish three of us in battle. Now." K-9 blew out the two candles on the table.

I heard a lot of movement around the room as people shuffled about. Then I felt the first strike. A leg sweep knocked my legs out from under me. I landed on the cement floor and felt the world spinning. I then heard a growl followed by something very sharp biting into my shoulder. A fucking dog. I punched the beast and heard a yelp as it fell back. I closed my eyes, concentrating on how Mindy taught me to move blind folded. Then I stood up.

I waited to hear and feel movement. Something was coming from my left. I ducked while swinging the baton. I missed my target, but he also missed me. I felt running feet coming from below my line of vision, so I kicked low. I felt my foot land on a dog's head. Then I felt that same rush from before coming to the right. I jumped and dodged a foot sweep. I grabbed the attacker by the shoulders and threw him through the door that was still behind me.

We came out into the well-lit garage. It was the fucking Spider-Man wannabe (and that's coming from ME). He was an agile douche. He hopped to the left and right. He kept going back and forth in an attempt to confuse or intimidate me. A gymnast is still a gymnast though, and most gymnasts need to see. I waited a moment and then threw one of my batons at full speed right between the eyes. He yelped and held his face as I ran up and jump kicked him in the chest with both feet. He was out like the candle.

As I stood up I heard somebody running at full speed behind me. It was Captain Dickhead. Instead of going in for the punch that I was ready to block, he threw his arm at me wrist first. I felt the edge of his silly arm shields and realized they were fucking sharp. I grabbed my arm as blood dripped from it. He threw out his other arm, so I went for the duck allowing my face to meet his knee. I felt the cartilage in my nose shift. I raised my head to catch my breath and got shield-slapped.

As I stumbled backwards, he threw out a traditional punch. I caught his hand and pulled it downward while also balancing myself. He did a semi-flip and landed on his back. Before he could sit up, I dropped my elbow on his throat as hard as I could. I then held it in that spot Hit-Girl showed me. He passed out within 4 seconds.

I got up one last time and saw K-9 now standing before me. His two enormous dogs were circling me.

"You've done well, kid," he said. "Better than your old youtube videos led us to believe."

"I've had training."

"I see that," he said pensively.

"Only from the best." Then I heard the dogs lunging from both directions. I raised my batons simultaneously, prepared to club the shit out of the pooches when K-9 held up his hand. The dogs stopped and sat down. I looked at him.

"Welcome to the team," he said. He held out his hand and I firmly shook it. The rest of the group came out to congratulate me. I would have been on Cloud 9 if I could regain the strength in my knees. Dominatrix came up to me with a moist towel.

"You can clean yourself off like this," she said, demonstrating by pushing the towel down her neckline at a tortuous pace. She then wrapped it around the back of my head and pulled me in so she could swallow my tongue. By the time she was done, any strength left in my knees was certainly gone. As she walked away I kept thinking of Katie. Katie loves me. Katie would not like this. Katie has beaten me up before.

"So, what's the team name?" I asked quickly to shift my thoughts.

"Huh," K-9 muttered as he lifted The Spider to his feet. "Oh. The Avenging League."

There was a pause.

"Why not," I finally said.

I was sitting in the private bar at the back of the secret HQ, cradling my beer and my throbbing face. I had wrapped the towel around my arm and I think the bleeding had stopped by now. Doc was sitting next to me as we perused the team. There was some music playing. Captain Star was standing off in a corner by himself while K-9 and Zorro 2000 conversed over shots. They drank hard. Hera and Zeus were dancing with each other, but he kept sneaking glances over to Dominatrix who was chatting up The Spider. This Spidey looked like he was lining himself up to be tied down in her webbing (leathery, I'm sure).

"So what do you think?" Gravity asked me.

"I hadn't expected all the bloodletting. But I like it. I think, we're going to really kick some ass."

"Your head still hurting?"

"Like Lindsay Lohan's liver."

"You want some pills for that?"

"I'm good, man."

"C'mon. I am a doctor."

"I thought you were an English major," I said, suddenly feeling suspicion.

"Look, this shit will let you forget EV-ERY-THING." He put them in my hand. Why not?

I felt a hand shaking my shoulder.

"Dave you gotta' wake up."

"Five more minu…." I muttered under my breath.

"David. David Lizewski. It's time to wake up."

I sat up straight and realized that I was in a car. I was still dressed as Kick-Ass and Doctor Gravity was driving.

"What…the FUCK is going on!" I stammered.

"Chill dude, you said you needed a ride home." Doc was chewing on gum and the sound of it popping was giving me another headache.

"How do you freaking know my name?"

"We all do, man. Those pills made you feel good all right. Maybe a little too good. You jumped up on the bar and started screaming Dave Lizewski is Kick-Ass over and over again." He looked over at me and gave me a big grin. I could see the gum in his teeth.

"No."

"You did. And then you said that you are a Golden God." I stared at him for a good half minute.

"Bullshit."

"Yeah, I made that last part up. But you were definitely not taking the pills well. Sorry about that man." We were now crossing the Queensboro Bridge. "So dude, where do you live?"


	5. Chapter 5:  Things Get Real

CHAPTER FIVE: Things Gets Real

Sometimes life is too surreal and it's easy to live the fantasy.

I'll admit that once I got past the obvious paranoia of my super-team knowing my secret identity, we were still pretty awesome. Usually what would happen is that either Zeus or Hera would tape us stopping some crime, helping people, posing for Facebook photos, just whatever. We stopped a garden-variety mugger and beat his ass down. That got a lot of hits. We also found Mr. Bitey again. No matter what, we were on a roll. Within a week, our Website that K-9 set up had over 10 million hits. The server even crashed. The best part? Instead of being called The Avenging League, the people on the news called us the Kick-Ass Team. That part of my life was like the garage band playing at Madison Square Garden.

Unfortunately, Dave Lizewski's life was becoming underwhelming and spiraling towards pathetic. Katie had quit talking to me for the better part of a week. We still texted about working through my superhero thing and she hadn't changed her Facebook status. So, I knew we were still together…but we were in a rough patch. About this time, I got a text from Mindy—our first communication since I called her the week prior. She said to meet her at the dojo.

When I got there, it was still pretty well lit from sunlight. Though the place gets gloomy after dark, with half-broken florescence being your only source of light, during these few magic hours, it is calming and pretty peaceful. Sensei Macready sat on her usual broken stool waiting for me. However, things were slightly different. She wasn't wearing her mask. There was also a sadness in her eyes that I've barely glimpsed before.

"Hi, Mindy."

"Dave." She wasn't cursing me out or making a sweetly condescending joke? Something was definitely off.

"You okay, Hit-Girl?" She looked up at me and I saw pain in her face. There were no tears, but there was physical discomfort circling her blue irises.

"I think we're done training. I've been watching your exploits on the news. I think half of your team consists of exhibitionists and the other half are morons. But your moves were looking good when you stomped on that that drug dealer."

"Yeah. That prick was trying to sell crack to kids only a few years older than you." I didn't say anything for a while. "So, why are you going?" I could see Mindy looking at the floor, deciding what to say.

"Shit's getting real again." She looked up and made eye contact with me. "At least that's how I view it. All these superheroes flying around and teams organizing, taking your initiative, reminds me of the old days. But Marcus keeps saying my past….what you're doing…That's the fantasy. I need to go to a place where I can live like a real kid. Not Hit-Girl."

I actually felt myself choking up. I knew to hold back the tears, so as to prevent a good mocking.

"Oh," was the first word I got out of my mouth. "I suppose that makes sense…I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah," she said and hopped off her stool. She walked past me for the door.

"Hey, Mindy?" She looked back at me. "Come say goodbye before you and Marcus leave for good. Okay?"

"Sure…dumbass."

I was eating a steaming bowl of chili (a newly inflated price I pay since Kick-Ass's return) while Dad got ready for work. He had a late shift at the plant.

"I'll be back around 2am," he said. "You sure you can handle that?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Look son, I don't mean to pry…but is there something wrong going on with you personally? I was so proud how you were showing as an adult in the last year. But I've seen a lot less of Katie recently and you seem like you've gone back into your shell." I looked up at my father. I knew he was making sense.

And the telephone rang. Pops answered it. I then saw all the color drain from his face.

Todd had been in the hospital for just under three hours. By the time I got there, Katie had also shown up. Marty was with him when it happened. He's the one who called Todd's parents as well.

"What happened?" I said as I hugged both Marty and Katie. They'd been talking and looked as distraught as I felt.

"I have no fucking clue," whined Marty. "This car, like a black SUV, comes speeding out of nowhere when were outside of Atomic Comics. Todd and I are were just standing there, minding our own business when the windows roll down and the street, the sidewalk, the freaking P.O. box….they just get hammered with bullets. I'm thinking it had to be out of an oozie or something." Katie gave me a 'what did you do' look and I felt the floor vanish underneath me. I was in free fall as the walls dropped around me.

"Anyway," Marty managed after choking up. "When it's over and they drove off, I'm fine. But Todd got hit in several spots and there was a lot of blood man. I mean a lot of fucking blood. The doctors are saying he's in a coma and may have lost oxygen to his brain and…" I was going to be sick.

"Katie?" I coughed up. I needed out of there. Now. Fresh air. I craved fresh air. I staggered back to the door I just came through not ten minutes before.

"He looks like he needs your help," I heard Marty say behind me in a voice so close and yet a million miles away.

"No, he needs time to grieve and think for himself," she said.

Out in the night breeze my pain and alienation felt slightly less claustrophobic. At the bottom of the steps to the hospital was a tall black man. He looked familiar.

"Psst. Dave, I need to talk to you about something." It was Doctor Gravity without his costume or prized gravity stick. I felt a cold sweat coming on. I looked at him on the stairs' left corner and then I ran the other direction. "Dave, I got something you need to hear!" I didn't look back.

As I approached my house, I saw in middle of my darkened yard Zorro 2000 and some girl standing next to him. She was a year or two younger than me. 16? Maybe 17. She was hot in her masked Catholic school girl get-up. But I didn't care about any of that right now.

"Ah, Kick-Ass," the Neanderthal may as well have shouted. "I'd like you to meet Gogo Yubari."

"Keep that voice down, dude," I shot back. I looked at this white girl with long raven hair. She was in what I decided was the best cosplayer outfit I've ever seen. "Nice to meet you Sailor Moon."

As I tried to walk past them, I felt her kick me at least five times in the face and chest inside of ten seconds. I blacked out.


	6. Chapter 6:  The Megalomaniac

CHAPTER SIX: The Megalomaniac

When I opened my eyes everything was a bright, yellow-ish blur.

After a moment, the yellow transformed into white. Shapes were coming together. I slowly realized that I was tied tightly to my father's recliner in the living room. The colors I was seeing came from some bright lights on tripods. They looked like what college kids used to make movies. Where the TV was supposed to be stood Zorro and some Italian looking, overweight sleezebag in a dark, pinstriped suit. I looked over my right should and saw a camera had been set up to capture my profile. That camera was attached to a computer. In front of that computer stood two people hunched over. One was that Gogo chick. The other was Red. Fucking. Mist.

"D'Amico," I said with blood and spit coming out of my mouth.

"Kick-Ass, you're up," he said, not even glancing at me. I looked down. I was in the KA suit. My puzzlement was interrupted by a bark. I realized that Miss Yubari was petting the dog in her arms.

"Chris, what're you doing?"

"What my father could not. I'm going to unmask Kick-Ass before the world."

"Chris, I've seen this movie before. It ends with you lying on the ground like a pussy while I kill your dad."

"For somebody who doesn't know where their father is right now, I wouldn't be casting stones." I felt a shiver run all over my body. "Relax, I didn't want to give you an Uncle Ben backstory. Besides, I think I gave you enough tragedy for one issue today. Tell me did the geek die?"

The anxiety I was feeling turned to rage.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'm going to kill you. I am going to fucking…" I felt the chair move under me and realized I was on my side. The greasy bastard was the one who kicked me over.

"By the way Dave, meet Tony. Tony is one of my most valuable men. One of the few guys on my Dad's crew you and the purple bitch didn't waste." I looked at the grease ball.

"Why aren't you wearing a costume?" I asked out of random curiosity.

"Because I do what I'm paid to do. Not dress like a freak." I looked away from douchey and looked over at douchier.

"Red Mist, how did you turn Zorro? How did you find me out?"

"Dave, Dave, Dave," the boy in black and red leather said, finally making eye contact with me. "I didn't find him. I didn't seek him out. You came to my man." He started to giggle like a moron. Behind all his fancy clothes and bankrolled supervillains, he was still an awkward little prick.

"I figured pulling you in with a straight team-up betrayal wouldn't work this time. So, you found my guy. Recall those addicts you bashed outside my shop?" My mind was racing now. "I paid for them to fuck some guy up with a gun. I knew you'd be there and you couldn't resist. 'Zorro' here, joined the superhero subculture months before I came back State side. He was bonafide and asked the newb with the pipe to show up. That got the ball rolling."

Ever since the store opening, I'd been playing Chris D'Amico's game again. Damn.

"How'd you even know to look in Queens?" I said, sounding more helpless than I wanted.

"You left a crap ton of blood in my in my apartment. Given how many times you've been through the hospital, did you think tracking your DNA would be difficult? You really just confirmed it all for me when you ran to find a payphone! Zorro asked if you were Lizewski while you were trippin' and you let the whole team know! Honestly, Clark Kent does a better job of hiding his identity." I felt like a little boy all of a sudden.

"I've known you were most likely Kick-Ass for years, Dave. I just needed proof and a team to complete my vision. You started real world superheroes and now I'm escalating it to its logical conclusion. In Europe I rounded up some of the most deranged minds to put on masks…" As he carried on, I realized two things. The first was that he was as high as a kite. The second was that he monlogued now like a Bond villain.

"That's also where I met the love of my life. Dear Kara," he pulled his hand across Gogo's face and kissed her on the lips. She seemed unresponsive.

"Love at first sight, I'm sure."

"Oh it's a beneficial trade off. She uses the tricks she learned while in the—shall we say services?—of the expanding Russian mob. Her departure from them was not amicable. She now provides the skills she learned over there and in return I bankroll her expensive fetishes. She's a fangirl at heart, Dave. Just instead of superheroes, she obsesses over anime, manga, and the like. A Japanese fangirl through and through."

"Gogo Yubari was a live action character from an American movie," I said, dryly.

"THERE WAS ANIMATION IN VOLUME ONE, DAMMIT!" shouted Red Mist. Maybe he was on something beyond just weed.

"Kara just loves Gogo's spiked, chain mace," Chris continued as he toned it back down. He started brushing his super-gelled hair as a new tic he apparently picked up. "I got her a perfect replica of it and she has become quite an artist with it." He started giggling again.

"Gogo, my dear, I think Dave needs to realize what kind of danger he's really in. Perform your demonstration."

For the first time, emotion appeared on her face. It lit up like the Nintendo 64 kid on the

Web. Out of nowhere from her tiny body dropped the shiny, silver ball and chain. It had an elegant line of spikes circling around it. Within the span of a second she had flicked her wrist and it wrapped itself around Tony's knees, cutting deep. This was as much a surprise to Tony as it was to me. I heard cartilage crunch as she pulled back, causing him to buckle to the floor. He landed on his mangled knees and I saw a bit of bone pop out from below the thigh.

As he kneeled screaming there, my first thought was how was I going to explain all the blood to my Dad? As I pondered this predicament, I realized Gogo was now standing above him with a samurai sword in hand. Where has she been hiding this shit?

Tony looked up at Red Mist. He was confused, scared and angry. Most of all he looked like he wasn't ready to go. This wasn't how he planned it. He wasn't ready to leave the stage just yet. He still had quite a few mistakes on his ledger. Nevertheless, a split second later, Gogo moved the sword as gracefully as a ballerina. Tony's head was gone. It rolled right into my face. For the first time since I woke up, I was scared. I was going to die here. Tonight.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did," Red Mist said in way too high pitched of a voice. "Because it's time to wrap this up."

"Wait, what?" I said, clearly terrified. "We haven't even shot your movie yet!"

Chris looked over at me and smiled.

"Oh, we taped that half an hour before you woke up. I was just waiting for you to come around before I posted it." A tiny bomb went off in the back of my brain. "Would you like to see some of it? It's playing right now."

He turned over the laptop. The camera was set up from a different angle for when it was recorded. I sat in the chair passed out like putz and Red Mist was carrying on. I couldn't quite hear everything he was rambling about, but I knew my mask was off. My mask was off online.

I also, could make out certain words like "Lizewski," "Hero and Villain Battle Royale," "Times Square," and "gasoline." I saw them pouring buckets of it behind me on the tape. For the first time I smelled the kerosene. I was going out like Big Daddy.

"We've gotta' run, Dave," Chris said in person. "I have to organize my small army of sociopaths to kill all of your fans tonight and still catch Conan on my DVR. Time is a-tickin." I heard a match being lit, then thrown upstairs. The fire started to burn the steps and banister. Why not me? They were walking out the door and leaving me here.

"Are you really going to leave me the opportunity to escape?" I cried.

"First Kick-Ass, I've researched you and you're kind of a loser," said Chris. "But I'd love to see you in Times Square to die with your fan club. All superheroes die tonight. But, if you make it out that means that little girl will have come out of hiding to save your ass again. I hope she does. Because if so, she's going to die with her crush." That felt like being hit by a bag of hammers.

"One last thing, nice dog by the way. Why's the name tag say Chrissy, though?" I gritted my teeth. Screw it. He can't do anything else.

"Because when I see a little bitch, I think of you." All of a sudden he pulled out a magnum and shot my dog! I heard the sharp yelp and felt actual red mist spray the back of my head.

"What?" the bastard said behind me. "I shot a little girl last time. You thought I carried a PETA card?" With that I heard him leave. I was alone in my house and the fire was getting closer.

I felt the smoke start building in my lungs. My eyes were watering. There had to be some way out of here. Something I can do. I took a deep breath and…I passed out. Again.


	7. Chapter 7:  My Fifteen Minutes

CHAPTER SEVEN: My Fifteen Minutes

I have no idea how long I was out.

It must have been pretty short because otherwise I would have died there. But whether it was seconds or minutes, it felt like infinity. I was moving through endless water. Kind of like when you trip and fall in the ocean, except there was no bottom to my descent. There was a bright orange, golden light everywhere I looked. Out of that orange came a pint-sized angel with fiery hair that glowed from its own heat and illumination. She grabbed and pulled me out of the water.

I was lying in the dying grass of my front yard when I sat up. Mindy was two feet away, her clothes covered in soot and rising smoke.

"Can you breathe?" she asked.

"Yes," I said between coughs.

"That's good. Hold out your hands." I did as instructed. They shook, but more from fear than injury. Her eyes were wide as she studied them. Finally, she sighed. "I think you'll live."

In the same breath, she slapped me across the face so hard my fillings must've popped out.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" I whined.

"That was for being stupid enough to let yourself get unmasked on the Internet. Your life's fucking over, dude." My heart sank. She was so right. Her expression softened for a second. "I'm sorry."

She stood up and brushed off the crap on her jeans and light blue jacket. She looked around. Nobody was here yet. The fire was only now reaching the kerosene. The flames were becoming visible from the outside. She started to walk off.

"Mindy! Where are you going?"

"Marcus saw what happened to you too, Dave. In about 15 minutes, people are going to be asking a lot of questions. I'm not going to be here when they do. We're leaving tonight before anybody figures out his adopted daughter lived half a month in the House of Kick-Ass."

"But-but, what about Red Mist and the shit going down in Times Square?"

"A bunch of geeks clobbering a bunch of other geeks? I hate the D'Amicos, but it's not my fight."

"Wait! You're a superhero."

"No. I'm a little girl." Suddenly, we heard feet running towards my house. "And I'm out of here." She darted into a bush so fast that I probably imagined seeing her move.

The first of the gawkers showed up with cameras ready to take pictures of the failed superhero. I turned around and looked at my house burning down. I realized all I had left from my childhood home was the costume on my back. Mindy was kind enough to gather my batons and mask too. At least my shame could be complete.

People were already calling me Kick-Ass Dave as I saw the house vanish in smoke. They were asking if this was a publicity stunt. Weren't Red Mist and I supposed to be friends? Why did my weapons look so phallic-shaped?

I took Mindy's cue and ran as fast as I could from them. I ran down the street with a few assholes following me and snapping more pictures. As I reached the streetlight I looked over the crosswalk to my right. There stood Marty and Katie with complete shock on their faces.

"You're Kick-Ass?" Marty yelled. "What the fu….what is that about?"

I looked at them and then back at the gaining amateur paparazzi. I put my mask on and ran across the other street, away from my friends.

A red Honda came zooming past and pulled in front of me. Doctor Gravity's car.

"Get in!" Doc yelled. He didn't have to tell me twice. I hopped in and we were gone.

"Sorry about what Red Mist did," Doc said. "That's messed up. And I thought he was one of us."

"His name's Chris D'Amico. He's the bratty, wayward son of a mobster. A mobster I helped kill a few years back."

"Damn. Well that explains a lot."

"Zorro and apparently the whole Avenging League was a trap to get me out of retirement and I walked right into it." There was silence.

"Yeah. K-9 actually followed Zorro yesterday. He and his dogs have spied on all of us, it seems. He saw Zorro on his off-hours getting dinner with some Mafioso looking people. I was trying to warn you this earlier, but you ran."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. If I knew the mob was after me, I'd be a little edgy too."

"This ain't the mob anymore. We're dealing with some grade-A sociopaths who want to be the Joker to our Batman."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants all the guys like us, who pretend being superheroes, in one place tonight. Then, he is going to try to massacre us with some dangerous folk. It's going to be ugly."

"He called for us to meet Gangs of New York-style by the Broadway ticket stand in 45 minutes. You going, Kick-Ass?"

"Fucking A."

When Doctor Gravity and I rounded the corner onto 44th St. we had been walking nearly 12 blocks. We got funny looks the whole way, but none stranger than as we passed the theater crowds as they left Phantom of the Opera and American Idiot. The latter seemed appropriate for me tonight. Gathered under where tourists would line up for bus rides in the morning stood more than two dozen superheroes. The whole league was there too. A few of them looked as young as when I started out. Doc was right. This was Gangs of New York. If that were the case my Liam Neeson wasn't going to die today.

"Kick-Ass!" I saw K-9 parting through the crowd with his enormous dogs. "I saw what happened and I'm sorry."

I nodded in comprehension. I wanted to put how screwed I was out of my mind. "You ready for this?"

"We'll break these losers' heads," Captain Star said with a boast. I gave him the WTF look.

"People are going to get seriously hurt tonight," I said. Nobody said anything.

"It's time," muttered The Spider. In eight days, that's the first time I'd heard him talk. I have no idea who these people really are.

We turned the corner and came out on the main area of Times Square. The roads were permanently shut down. The area had turned into Las Vegas without the gambling and I don't mean that in a good way. Over halfway down the main drag stood an odd assortment of people. Presumably they were supervillains given their colorful costumes and masks. But all the outfits were generic Halloween attire decorating some scary looking dudes. Skinheads, junkies, hired muscle, it was all there. Probably a serial killer or two as well. I did a quick count but gave up around 35. We were outnumbered.

As we began approaching them, two police cars pulled up on one of the streets with loud sirens scaring the tourists away. People all around the sidewalks gawked as four police officers got out. The viral video found its way to the NYPD in the nick of time after all. Two came up to our group while two approached the supervillains now only a hundred yards away.

"Dave?" said one of the two muscular, jock-ish looking officers. "Dave Lizewski?"

"That's me," I said.

"Thank God you're here, kid. The firemen only found a dog in the burnt house. You need to come with us and get home right now." I shook my head. "Are you slow or something?" asked a clearly angry cop. Our interaction was interrupted by one of the cops talking to the villains.

"Herb, he said they'd clear the streets if we let 'em off with a warning!" All of us looked over at him. Our other officer held up his hand signaling that he didn't catch that.

"He said-" before the slightly overweight policeman could restate his treatise we all saw a blade come around his throat and slit it wide open. He gagged a little bit before he collapsed. While everyone registered what just happened, the other officer that was standing by the villains was so thunderstruck, he kinda' just let as a familiar looking samurai sword go through him and stick out the other side. Gogo Yubari peeled him off her blade like a piece of meat. She was standing there in her cosplayer best holding a sword in one hand and two knives—one covered in blood—in the other.

"What the…" said Officer Herb as he pulled out his gun. Gogo was faster, throwing both small blades through the air. Each landed in the throat of one of our officers. So much for getting off with a warning.

"Holy shit!" someone yelled behind me.

"No freaking way," cried somebody else.

I turned around and saw everyone getting ready to flee in the general direction of Flat Iron.

"Zeus, Hera?" I cried out. "Where are you going?"

"To Hell with this!" yelled Zeus. That was the last I ever saw of them. They and at least five others were long gone before I could form my words.

"Wait!" Nobody listened to me. "I SAID WAIT." Those still in audible distance turned around and looked at me.

"I don't know why most of you put on a costume for the first time. For me, it was partly because I was bored and would rather be a superhero than nothing. Okay, that was the main reason. BUT look around you," I said, pointing to all the shrieking tourists running for shelter. "These people are scared of those assholes! The kind of assholes we have all put up with everyday of our lives. The kind we say someone should do something about, but no one ever does. Nobody is their brother's keeper and nobody ever helps his fellow man.

"Right here, right now? We have a chance to change all that! We can show this city if you stand up to the douchebags, you can make a difference. Right now we can be what we all, for whatever reason, dreamed we could be…superheroes."

"But we could die," someone shouted back at me.

"Then we died chasing the dream! Better to die free, living it, than survive a million days of hiding our emptiness in the shadows of mediocrity."

"What would you have us do?" said the always-cool K-9.

"Kick their ass."


	8. Chapter 8:  Kick Ass, Triumphant?

CHAPTER 8: Kick-Ass, Triumphant?

We were running full speed at the mountain of crazy.

Then again, we didn't look too sane ourselves. In the back, I saw Red Mist standing on a convertible, the Mistmobile 2.0, holding his dad's sword and still looking awkward.

"Fuck 'em up bad boys," he shouted.

When we clashed I had no idea how crazy it looked on all the cell phone cameras taking pictures and videos. It looked like a wave of self-righteousness crashing on a rocky shore of stupid. The bloodletting was almost immediate. Two heroes I never even knew the names of, a man and a woman, were clobbered to death with Gogo's ball and chain. Doctor Gravity flipped in the air and landed on his face when some steroid freak threw him. Luckily, lead pipes are good for crushing kneecaps. He was back up and people were falling around him. Other than Gogo's frequent money shot kills, it was just a bloody free for all. A melee where I had no idea what was happening.

I got beat around like a beach ball. But for every punch in the face or kick in the stomach I received, there were at least three guys with facial lacerations caused by my batons. After about a minute I heard a crashing sound. Zorro 2000 was there with a big ass shotgun. He blew away one hero. Next, a heroine. I saw Captain Star jump in front of him, but one bullet spray cost him both his shields. He held up his arms screaming. He turned to runaway and took a second spray in the back. He never got up again. It was at that moment, this Travis Bickle wannabe turned his weapon towards me. I braced myself as I ran hopelessly slow towards him with my batons out when I heard a screech so loud that it caused both of us to stop.

Out of nowhere, Hit-Girl, on a Yahama Supermoto, came flying off one of the vacant police cars like the Batpod off a ramp. As the motorcycle flew in the air she stood up on it and, in something I still can't fathom, pulled out duel wielding pistols. The first shot went into Zorro 2000's forehead. The bastard was gone. The next went into Generic Skinhead's chest. She even double tapped before she jumped off the bike. The motorcycle was tiny, but she still looked like a badass on it. It also still did a crapload of damage when it landed on three villains.

What happened next was a blur, but somehow in less than 45 seconds almost all the villains were dead or dying. Hit-Girl emptied somewhere between 4-8 pistols into them which she carried on her person (I couldn't keep up). After that, she pulled out two blades and turned them into a makeshift katana. Combined with using their own weapons of bats, beer bottles, knives and other such devices against them, she forced the villains who were still in one piece a minute later to run for their lives into Central Park.

As they fled I walked up beside Hit-Girl. Her costume had changed some. It was proportionally longer for her age. The wig was now longer, darker purple hair, pulled back into a super-long ponytail. The cape was a deep, royal purple.

"I'm glad you changed your mind," I said.

"I couldn't just let you commit suicide. Plus, I have unfinished business with the last of the D'Amicos."

"I'm glad to see you're also such a skilled designer. You must've made the new suit in a little over an hour."

"I like being prepared. I'm so good, there are some things even Marcus can't find."

"Where is Marcus?"

"Calling in SWAT. They'll probably be here in 5 to 10. The marines too, if he could manage it."

"Hit-Girl…Thanks."

"WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP, ALREADY?" The Mistmobile 2.0 came roaring at us. We jumped in opposite directions and avoided it.

"It's like listening to the Brady Bunch of superheroes," whined Red Mist as he raised his ducked head from the driver's seat. Gogo Yubari sat next to him, a creepy smile on her face.

"You going to actually fight or just talk, Red Mist?" I asked.

"I pick show off my fortune and escape to kill you both later." His driver's seat ejected and turned into a seated jetpack—similar to the one Hit-Girl and I escaped from his penthouse with several years ago.

"Pretty weak, dude," said Hit-Girl. Before she finished her sentence, she had caught a dagger thrown at her by Gogo. It landed between her two fingers. She threw it right back and it stabbed Gogo in the shoulder. She let out a small moan. The first sound I'd heard her make.

"Use the gadget," Red Mist squeaked at her. She grabbed from the back seat what looked like a gun. She aimed it at the Coke Building behind her and fired it. It pulled her up.

This caused Hit-Girl to giggle incessantly to herself. Let me just say, Hit-Girl giggling is a might bit unsettling. From her utility belt she pulled out a more compact version of the same gadget and fired a cable up the building. Now, they were both gone. I looked at Red Mist and he gave me that cocky sneer. Before he could blast off I jumped on top of the Mistmobile 2.0's hood and used that as a launching pad to grab his legs.

Seconds later we were hundreds of feet in the air. Red Mist was fighting desperately to steer his unevenly-weighted jetpack. I was fighting desperately not to fall to my death.

"What is wrong with you, you moron," screamed Chris. "You're going to get us both killed." We were now physically parallel with the ground as I crawled my way up his legs to his captain's chair.

"Y'know what your problem is Chris? You have no originality. You buy some cool shit, but at the end of the day, you don't know how to use it." I grabbed his steering sticks and pushed them in any direction I could. We zigzagged across the sky. At the last second I saw the giant New Year's Eve Ball on top of the Coke Building. We were about to crash right into it. I let go and fell onto the rooftop below. The impact created a spider web of fractures in my collarbone.

As I lay prone on the roof, simply waiting for feeling to return, I peered over the edge. I saw dangling from two dueling wires, Hit-Girl and Gogo Yubari.

"Grappling hooks are superheroing 101," cried Hit-Girl. "Maybe if you read a real comic book instead of one printed on newspaper about dragons talking to giant robots, you'd fucking know that!"

Gogo had the chain mace in her hand and kept trying to ensnare Hit-Girl with it. On the fourth try I witnessed, Mindy caught it with one of her katana-type blades as she ran back across the building. At lightning speed she pushed back towards the middle and Gogo. She tossed the chain off her sword and the ball came spinning around to crush Gogo's right hand. Gogo screamed real pain this time as she dropped the chain mace. She was now defenseless as she continued to use her left arm to hold the grappling gun.

Hit-Girl made a large swing, katana out, and claimed her kill. She ran the blade straight through Gogo and out the other side. Before Mindy could swing backwards though, Gogo took her injured arm and wrapped it around her.

"Seppuku," she whispered into Hit-Girl's ear. With her mangled hand she pulled Mindy's left arm from her own grappling device. Gogo let go and they both fell!

"NO," I screamed at the top of my lungs. Before I could do anything else, I was yanked from the edge. I flipped over to see a bruised and bloodied Red Mist.

"You look a little red in the face," I said. He kicked me in the ribs. I groaned and looked up noticing the New Year's Ball was on fire…and shaking.

Red Mist held up one of my batons. He struck me in the face with it. Then he hit me again in the chest. I made an agonized noise.

"Now, I can say that I kicked your ass," Chris screamed. There was a look of self-fulfillment in his wigged out face.

"That's my line."

I kicked him as hard as I could in the chest with both feet. He flew a several feet back. Enough feet. I rolled the other direction towards the edge building, using my crap arm to stop me from going over. It hurt. Not as much as what happened to Chris D'Amico though. As I messed up my collarbone even more, the New Year's Ball came falling months early. I don't know what Chris's last reaction to the giant flaming ball about to land on his face was, but I'm sure it wasn't pleasant. When the dust cleared, I could only see his boots and one hand sticking out from under the 2-ton holiday decoration.

I smiled to myself. I didn't even hear the clank of metal against concrete.

"What's so freaking funny," Hit-Girl said. Stunned, I looked over my shoulder. There she was, a scratched up katana blade in each hand…covered in glass, rust and concrete.

"You climbed?"

"No, I flew. Where's Red Mist?" I pointed to what was left of him. She smiled. "Most epic T-Bagging, I've ever seen."

When we reached the bottom of the stairwell, there were sirens everywhere outside. They provided a flashing, strobing effect to our darkness. SWAT was combing the area. I could see a handful of heroes and villains being lifted out of the debris. Dominatrix was helping K-9 walk. His left leg was broken. He seemed distraught and I realized at least one of his dogs was among the dead. I looked away.

"You going now?" I asked.

"Marcus and I are supposed to meet at a bus stop in Jersey by dawn."

"Well…take care, Hit-Girl."

"I'll see you around, Kick-Ass." She began to hobble off and then stopped. "Dave?" She came running back towards me and gave me the biggest hug of my life. My collarbone was so far gone, I didn't care how hard she hugged. Mindy Macready, the little sister I never had.

"We'll meet again," were the only words I could find.

"I don't know if that should make me laugh or cry," she said with a smile. She finally let go of her bear hug.

"Is there anybody inside there? Come out with your hands up!" I turned to look at the approaching cops. When I looked back at Mindy, she was gone.

I limped out of the door with my good arm up.

In the following months, two things became clear. The first was that Chris D'Amico, aka Red Mist, was an incredibly disturbed individual and the demise of him, as well as most of his Interpol-sought gang, meant the city was a safer place. The second was that Dave Lizewski is an asshole and should pay for his delusions.

I think only the word "clusterfuck" could describe the media shit storm that surrounded me. They found every embarrassing picture ever taken of me. They got people I never even met to go on the entertainment shows to talk about what a creep I was. Erika told Access Hollywood that I pretended being gay to pick up girls all the time. If my character had any value, it got Abe Lincoln'ed within the first 24 hours when Bill O'Reilly said I should be sent to Gitmo and waterboarded. Nobody remembered that I was tied up in my own house, almost set on fire or that even my dog got shot. It was all about what a dick Kick-Ass Dave is.

I was still resting up in the hospital when the first lawsuit came. It turns out nearly every thug I ever beat down had a lawsuit in the works. The only reason I avoided jail time was because they always initiated it. Even some of the heroes from our epic showdown in Times Square were suing me for misleading them. It turns out The Spider was an actual gymnast. Like an honest to God would-be Olympian who at 22 could only get a break from his family by dressing up like the Wal-Mart Spider-Man. Needless to say, they were pretty pissed off when they found out Gogo opened his stomach up wide with a samurai sword under a poster for Mamma Mia! The judges dismissed most of those because I couldn't be blamed for the actions of adults who were already there to engage in violence. Unfortunately, three of the heroes were under 18 (two 16-year-olds and one 15-year-old, respectively). Never mind one fled from the fight and none of them died...that was another couple million dollars of debt I could pass off to my children.

I'd like to say my Dad helped and that we finally bonded as adults over this. Alas, in truth he was too ashamed to visit me in the hospital. When I met him for dinner in a Burger King a few weeks later, he ran through the most popular reasons people thought I was a dumbass. He gave me a check for $3,000 and we went our separate ways. That wouldn't cover a week worth of lawyer fees, never mind food or rent.

Katie was kinder. She did come to the hospital and explained why I couldn't see her anymore. Since my school was expelling me for being a bad influence on the student populace, she said it would be easy to go through this break-up. She thinks I'm a little boy living in a fantasy that's going to end with me dead one day. She needs an adult who she can mature with. She let me know that if I ever kicked the Kick-Ass thing after years of therapy, she hoped we could still be friends. I hear she's dating Marty now. I'm not sure because of the whole "we can't see each other anymore" (she filed the restraining order three hours after her visit). Marty's no help because he refuses to see me. I think he blames me for Todd being a tomato. That is the one that hurts the most because he's right.

The one thing I'm happy about in all this is that no one ever figured out Mindy was Hit-Girl. There were plenty of questions about her like what I knew about the mass murdering Dakota Fanning, etc. Some really offensive accusations came up. Yet no one really knew about Mindy Macready's connection to Dave Lizewski beyond Dad and Katie. Their silence, I'm very thankful for.

So, what does an 18-year-old whose only life skill is beating up thugs and taking return beatings do when faced with millions of dollars worth of lawsuits and court costs? Get a new identity and start over. For two months I lived peacefully as Eduardo Fellini, a Bohemian sculptor and painter, in Greenwich Village. I accepted my life as a starving artist and was committed at giving it my all (besides the whole cutting off your ear thing).

It was on a not-so-special Tuesday when I came home with groceries that I saw a middle aged guy dressing like he was 24 sitting on my stoop. He had two men in suits next to him. They looked like lawyers or security, I couldn't tell which.

He greeted me by my real name. "It's great to finally meet you, Dave Lizewski."

I turned to run when one of his guys grabbed me by the shoulder. I thought this is how it ends. Eduardo Fellini cut off before his prime in the streets of the Village by a wiseguy for a crime in a past life.

"Dave, don't worry," he said.

I had quit struggling now and was resigned to my fate.

"Mr. Lizewski my name is Joey Q." He held out a hand. A moment passed until he gave up on getting me to shake it.

"Mr. Lizewski, tell me what you know about comic books."

THE END

COMING SOON: Kick-Ass 3: Life Kicked Back


End file.
